


An Old Drug

by TaleWorthTelling



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Other, Sex Pollen, implied polyamory, sexbots-turned-avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 21:05:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10772418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleWorthTelling/pseuds/TaleWorthTelling
Summary: The thing was, Steve Rogers was a very polite person. Even under the influence of mind-altering chemical agents. Even when those mind-altering chemical agents had rendered him a loose bag of impulses on tightly coiled springs, his heart a racing engine, and his dick, frankly, hard enough to hit one outta the park. So when he realized something was amiss, and then, almost instantaneously,whatwas amiss, he hightailed it into the nearest enclosed space with a locking door and gave strict instructions not to let him out.





	An Old Drug

The thing was, Steve Rogers was a very polite person. Even under the influence of mind-altering chemical agents. Even when those mind-altering chemical agents had rendered him a loose bag of impulses on tightly coiled springs, his heart a racing engine, and his dick, frankly, hard enough to hit one outta the park. So when he realized something was amiss, and then, almost instantaneously, _what_ was amiss, he hightailed it into the nearest enclosed space with a locking door and gave strict instructions not to let him out.

"Until when?" asked Steve's personal pain in the ass, also known as Tinybot. 

He almost snapped to use his judgement, but he had to be very careful with the kinds of permission he gave to Tinybot, unless he wanted to find himself locked in this closet for the next day or two. He thought, as his mind skidded to a halt, his brain beginning to feel like a sloshing presence throughout his skull, about lying. Maybe not quite giving the android any more ammunition against him. But he probably couldn't get this one by him in a good state, let alone with his pants already around his ankles, his dick slightly bruised from the force of yanking everything down without undoing any of it first. He'd probably pay for that one later. Right now, though ...

"Until I can keep my hands out of my shorts," he called, figuring there was just no point to beating around the bush.

"I'm due for an oil change next month. Think you can be done before then?"

"Ha, ha," he started to say, but then he came all over himself, and that's when the ride really began.

It was only an hour into the ordeal -- as though an entire hour spent ejaculating uncontrollably could be described as "only an hour" -- when the frenzy ebbed slightly, and although he didn't think it was over, he took the opportunity to rest his sweaty forehead against the cool metal door and pant. And realized that there was a slight vibration through the door, a light tapping sound. (Later, when he finally emerged from his musky, humid den of personal humiliation, he'd see the sign that Tinybot had taped up: "Occupied: comeuppance in progress." The smug son of a bitch.) Before he could contemplate this too long, however, his very sore, very reluctant penis twitched to life from its sad, flagging state, rallying not just itself, but the troops as well.

"There cannot ... be ... anything lef--"

And that's how he shot a load right into the electrical socket. Well, not right into. But it was close enough to drip down the wall, and he had only a moment to feel very, very guilty about that, and listen to it sizzle a bit, and wonder why there was an outlet in a closet to begin with, before his balls ratcheted up in a thoroughly unnatural way and he doubled over. And came again all over the floor.

"I can hear what you're doing in there," Tinybot said through the door, disapproval laced through his voice like he'd walked in on Steve with a technician. Again. "If you think Sally and Fred are going to clean this up, you're very mistaken. They did not sign up for this."

He couldn't believe that he was really going to have this conversation right now. Anyone else would have left him to sort himself out in peace or at least found the whole thing so awkward and uncomfortable that they wouldn't have anything to say. "I can ... clean up after my--" He groaned, turning around to throw his head back into the door and slide slowly to the floor. Everything felt swollen and sore. It was like the day after Natasha bought that closed trunk at the kink show and tried it out on him, but without the fun sex parts and instead all of the aches and stiffness. 

"You'd damn well better."

"Nobody asked you."

"Nobody asks Steve Rogers for his dick, and yet there it is, all the time."

He would have pointed out, as Natasha had before, that, actually, his dick was in high demand, but aside from it being a fairly tasteless thing to say, a very strange thing was occurring. 

"Tinybot ... you wouldn't ... You wouldn't be willing to ... lend me a hand or something ... would you?"

"You're not dying, are you?" he asked sharply, knowing as well as Steve that he was absolutely one of the last people on Earth that Steve would be interested in sleeping with unless circumstances were dire, and even then ... "Bucky wouldn't like that. I'd be obligated to intervene if your life was in danger. Eventually."

"No, I just ..." God, he was _floating_. And the ache was starting to go away, replaced by the fire and electricity that had sent him rushing into this closet to begin with. "I'm lonely. And it hurts. And it's so _hot_. God, it's hot in here. Are you hot?"

"I'm a robot."

"Robots overheat."

"I'm a highly advanced robot."

"Well, I'm hot."

"Your core temperature is elevated four point two degrees from your typical post-coital readings."

"Have I ever told you how weird it is that you know that?"

"No. You're too afraid of me."

Steve scoffed, spreading his knees wider and working off his shirt. It got stuck on his sweaty hair and he had to yank harder. "I'm not afraid of you."

Tinybot hummed noncommittally, then he did that whirring, clicking thing that he was so fond of, the one that sounded like insects and weapons readying all at once. Steve shivered.

"I'd take you more seriously if you could say that without your bear paws cupping your one size fits all genitals."

Steve opened his mouth to argue, looked down at his hand that was, indeed, cupping and kneading his scrotum, and closed his mouth. "How could you possibly know that?"

"When aren't you touching yourself?"

"When Bucky's touching me," he said, feeling clever for a fraction of a second before he actually felt sort of bad about it. But then he got over it, because he already knew that multiverses be damned, there was just no world out there in which any Tinybot was jealous of any Steve Rogers. The little bastard would be fine.

"So you make him do all of the work. Typical."

Luckily, the tide went back out, and Steve suddenly remembered why he would never, under any circumstances, sleep with the obnoxious little sexbot. His shoulders sagged against the door. "The commentary is unnecessary."

The door opened suddenly, letting in a burst of fresh, cool air, and startling Steve and dropping him backwards, but before even he could react it was slammed shut again, hitting him squarely in the back with all the care Tinybot could surely muster. Which is to say, there would be bruises. A bottle of water rolled to a stop next to his leg.

He figured his silence was gratitude enough as he snatched up the bottle and sucked half of it down in seconds, the rest of it not long after, and still felt thirsty. 

"Try not to die, Rogers."

Steve looked down at his traitorous body, skin prickling, nipples so tight they practically thrummed, dick steadily dripping. He sighed. "Maybe I should get over to medical."

"Can you make it to medical without begging someone to nail you?"

He hesitated, thinking about it. "Maybe you can call them and tell them where to find me."

Tinybot snorted, but he did call. After another hour and a half. 

-

"Why didn't you run into a bathroom?" Sam asked as he handed Steve a fresh ice pack.

Steve had been recovering in the medical wing for the last several hours with a bag of ringers feeding into his arm and ice on his crotch. Throughout that time, between resting and ignoring the snickers of his peers, he gave every noninvasive sample they could think of, and in fact many of one in particular that exactly no one was asking for.

This was worse than Spot, worse than the thing with the glitter, and worse than the damned lookalike orgy video. He felt like he'd been run over by a truck from the inside out and it hurt just to piss, but at least it was finally over. Except, of course, for the aforementioned snickering.

"Closet was closer," he slurred. "Didn't really think about it. Had to get somewhere. Situation imminent."

Sam nodded understandingly. "Why didn't Tiny call one of us?"

"Why does he do anything?"

The answer in Steve's case, obviously, was because it would cause him some degree of irritation, humiliation, inconvenience, or discomfort. Just Steve's case, it seemed. These days he was practically a diplomat when it came to everyone else. To Steve it seemed like only yesterday when even Maria Hill gave the murderous little sexbot a wide berth.

"I don't know, man," Sam replied, knowing full well what Steve was thinking and also knowing that he was very right but not wanting to admit it. "He's Bucky's boy. You know them."

"Whatever," Steve said, shifting to a slightly more upright position. "It's done now. Are we any closer to figuring out what happened?"

Sam shook his head. "Security footage didn't show anything weird and your bloodwork was definitely out of whack, but it didn't show anything that would stand out. No one else has presented with anything like this. We might just be looking at magic."

Steve rolled his eyes, flopping his head to the side to look out the window at the waning evening light, watching the insects whiz by, some fireflies and a pretty huge bee lingering on the pane. It had been a long day. He was just turning back to look at Sam when he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Sam suddenly leaning forward and frowning.

"What is--"

"Hang on." Sam slipped out of his chair and leaned over Steve, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "Doc, c'mere."

Steve was too exhausted to even be very concerned. He let Sam and the doctor and assorted personnel gather around him to hover, until one of the techs approached with a swab and scrubbed something from his hair into a plastic dish in her other hand. He glanced at it as they took it away. 

"S'not more glitter, is it? I told Nat it was time to stop putting that in my shampoo the last time Bucky used it by accident." 

"I don't think this is glitter, Steve." Sam looked between the dispersing labcoats who'd suddenly mobilized, excited by this new discovery, and Steve, still slumped in bed having jizzed himself stupid. It was too much, really. Steve thought about how nice it would be to take a nap.

"Think I'll sleep now," he said. 

He was out within seconds.

-

When he woke up Sam was in the bed next to him, looking mildly annoyed but not too worn out. 

"What happened?" he asked, more alert than he'd been earlier. He started to sit up.

Sam reached across the gap between their beds and dropped his palm heavily over Steve's wrist -- not like exhaustion, Steve realized, but in that pleasant, loose-boned way he moved after ...

After he'd orgasmed. Damn it. 

"You, too, huh?"

"Sort of." Sam sighed heavily, which stretched out into a long yawn. He settled further into bed. "I had a bit of a reaction to that stuff all over your pretty blond head."

Steve looked around the bed. Sam wasn't hooked up to any IVs or monitors. He looked like he was just trying to take a nap. "They didn't give you the works?"

"I just had myself the one incident," he said, "before they realized what that shit was and gave me something for it."

"They synthesized a cure that quickly?" He couldn't have been out more than a few hours.

Sam snorted. "Nah, I think Benadryl's an old drug."

Steve sputtered. " _Benadryl?_

"Yeah, turns out even super soldiers have allergies sometimes."

Steve narrowed his eyes at the ceiling, finally noticing that his hair was damp but no longer tacky with sweat. Looked like they'd taken care of the rest of it. He felt clear-headed for the first time all day.

"You okay, then?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam said, flopping over onto his side to look at Steve. "In fact ... I think I could go again."

"Don't even think about touching me."

Sam laughed. "You'll laugh, too, one day."

"Not today."

Maria Hill normally had better things to do with her time than cleaning up after his sexual activities, but in this case -- and the notable cases of a few other incidents -- Steve Rogers's penis actually fell within the purview of her job description. She still wrinkled her nose when she walked into the medical wing. 

"Steve," she began, tapping the screen of her tablet and only glancing up at him briefly, "I hope it was good for you."

"It wasn't," he bit out. "But apparently Sam had a blast. Where are we on identification and containment?"

Maria hesitated before she answered, mouth tightening and relaxing lightning-fast. “We took another look at the footage. Security cameras briefly picked up what appeared to be a very large insectoid covered in the same substance found on you. We investigated.”

“It was a bee, Steve,” Sam interjected, a gentle laugh in his voice. “Seriously, it was just sitting right in front of the camera. It was bee-sized. A tiny bee foiled the super-advanced technology.”

“It may be a tiny bee, Sam, but it is clearly not an ordinary one.” She tapped the tablet some more before she turned it around to show them. “As you can see, it’s been … enhanced.”

It certainly looked bee-shaped, but after that the resemblance was thin. He could see how, on the camera feed, it looked more suspect. “We tagged it?”

“No, the tag was already present. Obviously this is either a biological attack or the rogue subject of an experiment. Honestly, I’m betting on the latter.”

“How much engineering went into it?”

“No, that’s the interesting part. It’s been genetically manipulated, but it’s otherwise just an insect.”

“Just an insect with… ” Steve started skeptically, “… aphrodisiac pollen.”

“You can say it, Steve.” Sam rolled over on his side. “You got sex pollened.”

“That’s not a real thing.”

“It literally just happened to you.”

Steve dropped his head back into his pillow and stared up at the ceiling before he turned back to Maria. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, one of the techs peered around the doorway. “Commander Hill, there’s some guy at the door saying we have his bee and he’d like it back. Kinda squirrelly. Definitely knows he fucked up.”

Steve blinked. So did Maria. Sam snorted. 

“That was fast.” She turned sharply on her heel and quickly crossed the room toward the door. “Tell him he can’t have it back, and that we’d like to talk to him.”

“Like to?”

“We’re going to.”

Before she slipped from view, Steve requested, “Maria, after you’ve given him his warning but before you send him on his way, I’d like a word with the researcher.”

She nodded once, then disappeared.

Steve took a moment to really consider the absurdity of this situation, but he’d be lying if he said it was the weirdest thing to happen to him even this month. Still.

“Hey, how many times—“

He glared at Sam.

“Alright, alright.” He held up one hand in surrender. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Sex pollen. Honestly.


End file.
